Tuesdays With Britta
by GoldStarGrl
Summary: Abed and Britta meet every Tuesday at 4:30 for Abed's therapy sessions. Each chapter is a different session. Hints at Britta/Troy and Annie/Abed
1. Chapter 1

**(I know this one is completely in dialogue, not all of them will be. It's different, but it's an exercise I've wanted to try. Hopefully it won't scare anyone off.)**

"You know Abed, you don't have to lie on the couch like that."

"I know. I like doing it. It makes me feel like Cole Sear from the Sixth Sense."

"Fine. So, Abed...let's talk about you."

"What about me?"

"Um...tell me about yourself."

"I'm twenty seven. I love movies and chocolate and cosplay games. And I thought therapy was about finding our deep, hidden truths, not reading my baseball card."

"It is! Erm...I mean...OK, you wanna get deep? Tell me about your _family_ Abed."

"Well, Troy has been my roommate for almost two years now. We've had a couple of rifts here and there but we-"

"Abed. I said to tell me about your family."

"That's what I'm doing."

"..."

"You're going to 'aww' like Shirley and Annie now, right?"

"No! No I won't. Your weird attachment to Troy doesn't phase me because I am a physiologist."

"Cool. Coolcoolcool."

"...Abed, please tell me about your biological family."

"I'd rather not."

"And why is that, mmm?"

"There's no need to act suddenly fascinated. You already know most of the story. I don't like talking about them because it..."

"Yes?"

"It makes me sad."

"Ooh, yes! I mean...interesting. Why? What happened?"

"...My mom left when I was six. My dad got angry about that. Both of those events gradually turned me into this."

"And...what is this, exactly?"

"..."

"Abed, answer me I'm trying to give you a break through!"

"My mom left when I was six."

"I know, you told me-"

"My mom left when I was six. She left on May 31th, 1991 at 5:34 P.M. That was twenty-one years ago last Thursday. "

"Oh, Abed-"

"I don't need your pity. I don't want it. I'm setting the scene, to tell you why I am what I am."

"O-okay. Tell me."


	2. Chapter 2

"I mean, I was always weird." Abed said, crossing his left ankle over his right. Britta looked up from her notepad, the feathery pen she had borrowed from Annie flapping in her eyes. She swatted it away.  
"Abed! You're _not_ weird." She began in her usual loud, boisterous, I-defend-the-common-man voice. Abed held up a hand, not looking at Britta but up at the ceiling.  
"No, I am." He said pleasantly. "It's not a secret. Anyway, I was always a quiet kid, I liked TV more than real life, I couldn't look people in the eyes. I wouldn't play with other kids or leave my parents alone. It put a lot of stress on my mom."  
Britta nodded, gnawing on the side of the pen. "Is that why you think she left?"  
Abed didn't answer for a moment. Then he continued his story like he hadn't heard Britta's question.  
"But when my mom left, I got worse. I started watching TV all day, every day."  
Britta tried not to let her eyes light up at the physiological gold mine laying itself out before her.  
"Do you think your attachment to TV was a-a..."Britta hastily rifled through her Psyche 101 textbook that was balanced on the arm rest of her chair. "A...coping mechanism?"  
Abed shrugged, his face still passive.  
"Maybe. I think I missed my mom. I needed something to do."  
Britta scribbled this down on her notepad, the purple feathers swishing in front of her face.  
"Abed, you didn't answer me before. Do you think all your...quirks...are what made your mom leave?"  
Abed let out a condescending chuckle, probably a laugh he'd stolen from Sam Malone or Barney Stinson.  
"Britta, my mother left because I have Asperger's."  
Britta dropped her bird-pen. Her eyes widened as she groped for it on the chair around her.  
"What? Who told you? Was it Jeff? Or Pierce, I bet it wahh..." She realized she had spoken all in one breath, and gasped, trying to regain her composure. "O-oh?" She squeaked. "Um, Hmm-hmm, I see."  
Even though her fake glasses made everything a little blurry, she was sure she saw Abed roll his eyes.  
"Jeff didn't tell me. Neither did Pierce. Although it was kind of amusing to see you all skirt around the obvious so...obviously."  
Britta felt her stomach plunge in guilt, thinking back to all the time they smiled too brightly and called Abed "cutesy" and "special" right to his face.  
"Abed, I'm sorry-"  
"I don't need an apology." He replied in his usual flat voice. "I'm used to it. People have been trying to pretend it didn't exist since I was four."  
Britta shifted uncomfortably. She blurted out her go-to therapist response.  
"How do you feel about it?"  
Abed shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling.  
"I don't know. It's not unusual for me. This is the way I've been my whole life. I'm obsessive, I hate change." He paused. "And I sound like a robot."  
Britta dropped her pen again.  
"Abed! You are not a machine!" she said, outraged. Abed turned to look at her, blank and unblinking.  
"I never said I was. I said I have Asperger's. And I'm used to it. In this timeline, at least, I've never been someone without it."  
Britta scooted closer to Abed, sitting on the edge of her chair.  
"Do you ever wish you didn't have it, though?" Her voice came out a little too breathy and eager. Abed turned back to face the ceiling. He said nothing.  
"Abed?" She asked again, leaning over her notepad. Abed abruptly stood up and walked past Britta, into the kitchen.  
"I'm done with this today. Do you want buttered noodles?"  
Britta sighed in exasperation and dropped her pen and paper.  
"Abed, you can't leave when this gets hard. That's not the point of therapy."  
Abed didn't turn around, only took out a knife and started spreading butter over his pasta.  
"I'm not leaving. This is my house. I'm in the kitchen in my house." He started humming /Daybreak/ under his breath as he picked up his bowl. Britta twisted around in her chair to face him.  
"Abed, we need to talk about your mother! You don't know why she left! You think, but you don't know." Britta was struggling to stand up and run to him. "And we can explore how that effects your-"  
"I'm gonna watch TV now. Would you like to join me?"  
Britta, now incredibly flustered, started to sputter out some response about how unprofessional and undignified and un...something that would be, but Abed just ignored her, turning on an episode of Zoey 101. He looked at her expectantly, patting the couch cushion next to him. Britta bit her lip and sat down primly on the couch next to him.  
"Ok, you don't have to talk!" She reasoned, trying to salvage the situation. "But-but I still get to observe you!"  
Abed nodded, looking unbothered.  
"Cool. Coolcoolcool."  
Britta nodded as well, and watched him watch TV and eat. They stayed this way for a few minutes. Britta pretended to take notes, but was too stunned by what she'd heard. So she just drew a unicorn. She was focused on it's horn when Abed spoke suddenly, making her jump.  
"People are always trying to fix me. I wish they didn't have to." He said. He was impassive as always.  
Britta struggled to understand what he meant. She opened her mouth to respond, but for once she didn't have anything to say.  
It would take a lot more than a few empty phrases to get to the boy in front of her.


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: I am so sorry it's been ages since I updated this. I got insanely busy. My sincere apologies.)**

"How much does he watch a day?"

"I dunno, Annie usually keeps track of that. Annie?"

"On school days, about seven hours. On the weekends...sixteen."

"SIXTEEN? You let him watch sixteen hours of TV everyday?"

"Only on weekends!"

"Britta, we can't tell him what to do, we're not his parents. He's six years older than me."

"You tell Jeff what to do all the time, and he could be your dad."

"Auh!"

"Britta!"

"Sorry. Look, you two are Abed's strongest support system. You need to help him-"

"Help me with what?"

"Abed!"

"Hi. Help me with what?"

"N-nothing. Troy and I have to...buy...socks. For Pierce."

"Aw man, we do? Ow!"

"We'll just be leaving."

"So what were you talking to them about?"

"Oh, you know...Pierce's socks."

"You think...Pierce's socks... have a problem."

"...I think it's not Pierce's socks fault, but yes."

"..."

"Pierce's soc-for the love of God, Abed. Don't get upset. This is what we're trying to fix."

"Why are you trying to take away my TV?"

"Because you have an addiction!"

"I like my TV."

"Of course you do. That's the problem, it's taking over your life!"

"How?"

"...What?"

"How is it taking over my life?"

"Abed-"

"All TV did was give me ideas to try in the Dreamatorium. It gave me something to do."

"But it kept you from _doing_ anything else."

"Like what? I didn't have friends growing up. Well, I had seasons 1-5 on box set, but-"

"Abed."

"I was kidding. Maybe TV is helping me Britta. Like you want to help me."

"How is it helping you?"

"By making me happy. Giving me a personality."

"...What?"

"Without TV I don't know who I am. Maybe I'm nobody. Maybe I'm just a blank slate with nothing to offer."

"Do you think that's what you are?"

"I don't know!"

"..."

"I'm sorry. I don't like shouting."

"Do you want a tissue?"

"No."

"...Abed?"

"..."

"You'll never know who you are until you give yourself a chance to find out."

"I'm scared."

"I know!"

" I don't know what I'm doing."

"...Me neither."

"I know."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I've played out this senario. And it'll end with...never mind."

"What?"

"You want me to stop watching TV too much."

"Yeah..."

"So no spoilers."

"..."

"..."

"Fair enough. So we just see where this takes us. No spoilers."

"No spoilers."


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N: I...I have no excuse as to why I neglected this story for so long. I'm very sorry.]**

"So what's the deal with you and Troy?" Abed asked one day, as he and Britta sat eating Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.

Britta, who had just taken a bite of one, started choking.

Abed ran to get her water and asked four times if he should call 911.  
When she was finally able to breathe again, she glared at Abed.

"Abed, asking about my personal life violates the therapist-patient agreement."

"But you always get to be the therapist. I wanted to try my hand, you know. a classic role switch."

Britta frowned. She leaned closer to Abed, gently cupping his knee with her hand.

"Abed, you know what we're doing isn't a TV script, right? I'm supposed to help you stop do-doing this." She coughed on the last word, her throat still choked with peanut butter.

Abed slightly shifted so her hand fell off his leg. She curled it up and laid it in her lap.

"But we're not having therapy right now. We're eating Reese's you stole from Shirley's purse at school today."

Britta quickly shoved the rest of the candy into her pocket. Abed leaned forward and took her notepad off the table.

"So, what's the deal with you and Troy?"

Britta felt herself go red. She tried to nonchalantly brush her hair out of her eyes.

"What do you mean, what's the deal?"

"Do you like him?" Abed said. His voice was so even and innocent sounding that Britta grimaced and let out a groan of frustration.

"I...I don't know. I mean, he sweet, he's a good kisser, and he smells, like, awesome-" Abed nodded in agreement. "-But..." She faded off and shrugged, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands. She looked down at her feet, folded up in front of her.

"You're afraid you'll break him."

Britta jumped. Abed had stated this matter of factly, drumming his fingers against the paper rhythmically as he looked at Britta.

"You know you're not mentally heathy. And no matter how much you both want to pretend otherwise, Troy is."

She felt her stomach drop at the sickening truth.  
And then she felt a surge of anger. She stood up.

"No! You don't get to make me feel things without my consent! That is a violation of human rights!" She grabbed her jean jacket off the couch and turned angrily on her heel. Her hand was closed around the doorknob when Abed spoke.

"You think you'd be too much for him. You think you'd destroy him."  
Britta felt like she'd been slapped. She threw the front door open, so angry she was almost shaking.

"Goodbye Abed." She said sharply. She walked into the hall.

"But you wouldn't." He called after her.

Britta froze.

Abed walked to the doorway, talking to Britta's back.

"I study character. And because Troy is my other half, I study him more than anyone." Abed shifted his weight from foot to foot as Britta slowly unclenched her fists.

Abed cocked his head to the side, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

"Troy is stronger than you'd think." He said. His tone was so quick and flat he might have been discussing the weather. "He cries a lot, but that's only because he's spent a lifetime holding everything in for appearances." Abed took a step back into the apartment. "Kind of like _Friday Night Lights'_ Smash Williams. And _Star Trek Into_ _Darkness_' Spock. And you."

Britta opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"You keep it in like a dam, and then it bursts at catastrophic, inopportune moments."

She slowly shut it, looking at Abed in horror.

"You're right." She said, her voice cracking. Her eyes felt suspiciously heavy, aching with the tears that danced around the edges.

Abed was still looking at her, unblinking. He watched as Britta sniffled, her face collapsing in on itself.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Abed, what am I doing?" She said slowly, brashly. "All I do is screw people...everything up."

"Britta-"

"I'm going to ruin you!"

"Britta-"

"I just dump my problems on everyone else and ruin them and I said I would stop. I said so."

"Britta-"

"Why don't I listen to me more?" She lunged forward and clutched Abed's shoulders, shaking him. "Women have a superior sense of instinct-"

"BRITTA!"

Abed yelling was so rare and strange that Britta actually froze. With great embarrassment, she realized how violently she'd been shaking him. His eyes looked a little unfocused. He clutched his head and blinked a couple of times. He looked down at her sternly.

"Britta, you will not destroy you, or Troy, and you aren't going to destroy me."

Britta let her arms fall limply to her sides. She looked down, her throat feeling blocked.

"I thought you I was a catastrophic dam."

"You will be. And so will he, if you don't express your feelings. As it says in the semi-hit movie adaptation of _Rent_, 'forget regret, or life if yours to miss.'"

She was silent for a moment.

"Won't you miss Troy? The last time we...went out you tried to cut Jeff's arm off with a bone saw."

The lights from the TV shone off Abed eyes as he replied.

"I don't want Troy being a dam either." He did an over-exaggerated shrug and spoke in a bad Brooklyn accent. "What can I say, I love a happy ending."

Britta gave a tiny smile as she wiped her eyes on her sleeves.

Abed turned and went back into his house, sitting on the couch.

"You should come sit with me." He said in his normal voice.

Britta hated men trying to comfort her, so she didn't mind the way they she and Abed were now. She wiped her eyes as Abed sat three feet away away from her, nonchalantly watching _Degrassi_. It was almost soothing, not to have someone hovering over you, determined to fix you, she thought.

Wait a minute.

"Abed, do you wanna stop?" She blurted out.

"Therapy?"

"Yeah." She said, wiping her nose.

"Nah."

Britta whipped her head up.

"What?"

Abed paused for a brief moment.

"You're my friend. And I like talking to you."

Britta considered this. She was supposed to be his _therapist_. But being as screwed up and clingy as she was, as they both were, this thing, this friendship they'd fallen into was inevitable.

"Only one episode." She relented. Abed smirked and turned back to the screen.

"And then we talk about your mother!" She added in what she hoped was a commanding voice.

"Mmm-hmm."

She sighed with what was only half-genuine exasperation and flopped down next to him to watch Claire and Eli's latest drama.

And it was kind of nice.


End file.
